Purple Orchids
by Rachie-girl
Summary: She met his eyes, and spoke to him for the first time, "I love you." Rated T for suggestive-ness. Nothing flat out stated, just suggested. Based off an idea that had been floating through my head for a while. SteinOC


**Disclaimer: Soul Eater and all its characters belong to whoever owns it, which isn't me.**

I thought of this one day after watching Soul Eater. I like it, so I thought I'd post it. Review if you feel like it, like it if you feel like it. If you don't feel like doing either, well...I guess that sucks for me.

Okay, here we go.

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The girl smiled as she laid the flowers down at the base of the small gravestone. Today was a happy day.

It was also a sad day, and maybe, perhaps, that was the source of the happiness. The loss that gave way to more than she or the man whose hand she held so tightly could ever imagine. Their sadness was a happy one.

Today was the memorial, the day the beautiful young woman had lost her life while giving life to the young girl who stood there, laying flowers on a grave and remembering what she had never known.

It was also the day they met.

The girl lifted a single rose and set it down on the gravestone next to her mother's, one whose name had long since been erased, its memory lost with the woman who laid beside it.

Her great-grandmother's gravestone.

They had met there, in that sad little cemetery, on a day quite like this. It was cloudy, but the sun shone through the little patches so brightly.

The man had watched her walk up, wrapped tightly in a black cloak and looking around nervously. She gripped the edges of her cloak and lowered her gaze, walking hurriedly through the marked stones to find the one she wanted.

Her grandmother's gravestone.

She had died when she was only a little girl. Sickly from birth, she caught pneumonia and was gone. Their family was too poor to afford much more than a poorly chiseled rock.

So there it stood, name worn beyond recognition, only known to those who knew it already.

She didn't know why she came here.

She had never met the woman, who had died half a century before she even came into existence. But she had come, something drove her to come.

She laid the rose down gently. Her small gift to a forgotten girl.

A tear slid down her cheek, landing on the green patch with a wet plop. It was soon followed by another, and then another. The sky rumbled with thunder and she pulled the hood down more tightly to hide her face from the rain.

She didn't notice him, just as he had forgotten about her.

Thunder rumbled and she looked up, just as he did.

Their eyes met. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green, hers a reflection of the purple orchids she clutched so tightly in her hands.

That was, most likely, the happiest moment of her life; the moment her eyes met the eyes of a stranger.

They met for only a second, but it lasted a lifetime.

Like that moment, her sense of time disappeared. She wasn't sure how it happened, but she was happy it did.

She opened her eyes, and she was with him. His arms wrapped around her, her hands knotted in his hair, his breath was hot against her skin. She moaned out a name she couldn't know and his fingers dug into her back.

She could feel his soul, resonating, wrapping her gently in his embrace. And she felt hers, cloaking him in a love that couldn't exist.

The fair haired woman came back the next day, and the white haired man was there, waiting for her.

Once more she felt that feeling of love, complete and utter love, wrapping around her, trailing down like fire wherever his skin brushed hers.

Afterwards they talked. Talked about nothing, talked about everything. Books, movies, music, hobbies, shapes they had seen in the clouds at one point in time.

They would talk for hours. Time didn't exist. Words were exchanged then quickly forgotten, yet memorized and cherished. She knew every word he had every spoken to her, knew how he sat in that roll-y chair, knew how his glasses would flash when he looked at her, knew how he moved and how he talked.

He knew how her lips moved, knew how they tilted upwards in a lopsided smile, knew how she would click her heels together, how her hands would curl up into a delicate fist when she grew passionate about something, knew how she would carelessly remove the ring she wore every time she saw him.

It was the third time he saw her, that the ring was gone.

He never really looked for it, it was never important. But he noticed it, noticed how her smile was brighter, how her eyes were lit up and how her movements just seemed more free, like that ring was a great weight that had been removed.

Somehow, it made him happier as well.

She showed up at that little old cemetery 23 more times, each time spent in the same passionate flurry that occupied hours yet was over in a blink of an eye.

And then one day, she didn't show up.

That day was neither happy nor sad, it wasn't over, but, had it really ever begun?

She didn't show up the next day, or the next day, or the next. 8 months went by before she showed up again.

She wasn't alone.

She held something in her arms, something small and wrapped in white. She handed the small, white thing off to him and he took it, not asking what it is or why she was giving it to him. His eyes never left hers, even as he held the little, warm thing close to him.

She met his eyes, and spoke to him for the first time, "I love you."

He leaned down to her and kissed her, and she kissed him back.

He repeated her words against her lips. They both knew he meant it, and it was both a shock and something they had known all along.

She pulled away, no goodbyes were exchanged. She turned and left, leaving him with the small, white bundle. Somehow, it was all the more beautiful for it.

The thing in his arms moved, and he looked down at it for the first time.

The white haired girl cooed, and reached a small hand up to him, brushing her chubby fingers against his cheek. She giggled and pulled at his hair, before shoving the small appendages into her mouth.

He looked up, but she was gone. No trace of her left.

He heard the next day she had died in a car crash, had fallen to sleep at the wheel.

The girl placed the lavender orchids on the grave, it was her mother's favourite. She squeezed the man's hand, and smiled up at him.

He squeezed her hand back.

The girl looked up at him. He had never shown sadness, for what was there to be sad about? She had given him something more than grief, something better than sorrow. She had given him 26 days of the happiest nothing he had ever known, and the rest of his life with something better than that.

Today was a day of tears, tears of happiness and tears of pain, but came with a knowledge that the pain made the happiness possible; that without the sorrow both of them felt, they would never have known each other, or her. The woman that lay in the grave, that neither of them had really known, but both loved with more soul than ever before.

The girl smiled, gripping her father's hand. Today was a happy day.


End file.
